


And If the People Stare, then the People Stare

by murg



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Humor, Biphobia, Bisexual Male Character, Catholic Character, Epistolary, High School, Hipsters, Homophobia, M/M, Prom, Slurs, absurdly oblivious character, shamelessly mocking chobsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murg/pseuds/murg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Man Stevenson is a seventeen-year-old social outcast. He's completely fine with this. A self-proclaimed "two-thirds gay, but really straight at heart" eternal optimist with an awkward obsession with Jennifer Lawrence, Man is determined to take Tim Rosewater, star quarterback of the football team, to prom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And If the People Stare, then the People Stare

"And If the People Stare, then the People Stare"

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            Can I just say that you're the hottest woman on the planet? I don't mean to sound presumptuous, though I don't suppose it'll matter since I'm never sending this anyways. I don't particularly want to date you or have sex with you, but I would like to talk to you because you seem friendly and I’d like to look at you all day like a creepy person and maybe we could hold hands for a few seconds? I'll tell you right now I'm firmly abstinent because my religion dictates it and I go to church every Sunday because it's my own damn choice.

            But I digress. If you'd ever decide one day, "Hey. I'm going to marry Manfred Stevenson," I'd really appreciate it though if you must know, I prefer "Manny" or "Man." For you, I'll even make an exception and allow "Fred" if it makes you more comfortable. Manfred really is just a slightly modified form of Fred that asserts manhood, after all, and I don't know what my parents were thinking other than that it was a family name. I really like your name. I wish my name was Jennifer. Then we'd be Jennifer and Jennifer.

            Actually, that's pretty creepy. That might be one of the creepiest things I've ever thought about a girl. And I might as well come clean about another issue, Jennifer: I'm about as gay as the good Lord is capable of pumping two-thirds of a body full of gayness. Which makes me just about two-thirds gay, give or take some additional water weight. You're really attractive though, as I've mentioned previously.

            And of course I wouldn't dream of marrying a boy, though Tim Rosewater is the nicest, most handsome boy in my grade. I don't think God would particularly mind if I married a guy, but it still stands that I'm doubting the existence of a single homosexual in the whole of Nonny County. I doubt Tim Rosewater's girlfriend would be very receptive to me getting him a kickass pair of rollerblades he's always wanted for Valentine's Day.

            So I ended up buying them for myself, since they _were_ pretty cool. I mean, they had these flaming skulls on the sides. Not to sound like a middle-schooler, but that's pretty BA.

            I really love your work, Jennifer. You're a brilliant actor and I think you'll go down in history as one of the most talented human beings to have ever lived. I've seen all your movies, even that weird horror flick about the house. Your brothers could probably beat the shit out of me, but to quote The Smiths, _"I know that you would like me…if only you could meet me."_

            Now that I think about that line, that's a pretty arrogant thing to say. I'm definitely being presumptuous.

            Anyways, consider marrying me, when I'm out of school?

 

Okay. Thanks.

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            It just sounds better than writing "Dear Diary." I don't keep diaries. That's pretty lame and it's not like I'm going to spend a whole day flipping through it rereading it and nodding my head like, "Mmhm. That's me. That's what I did on Friday."

            Plus, I can confess my undying affection for you over and over again, Miss Lawrence. You're like a Greek goddess from Kentucky.

            State Qualifiers in Cross Country are coming up real soon. I'm hoping to earn a spot. Senior year's a lot more dull than I expected. To be honest, I'm not sure what I expected besides harder classes with the exception of English, where I never learn a damn thing.

            I swear, though, Ashley Tisdale put a semi-colon in the middle of a word. _The middle of a word._

            Speaking of Ashley Tisdale, she's going to prom with Tim. That makes sense, since they're dating, but prom's _months_ away and who knows? They might not be dating by then. Prom's stupid. Friends go together. Only juniors on prom committee can get nominated for king and queen and stuff. It doesn't mean anything. I didn't even go, last year. I sat on Megan's couch and ate all her ice cream and watched _Star Trek: Next Generation_. It was fun, but I had to do that since Johnny thought I was only joking when I asked him to step out with me for prom. He spread the joke everywhere. I mean, people thought it was funny, which is nice, but it got old fast.

            Tim didn't laugh, though. Tim apologized to me and he said, "Man, that kinda sucks that John had to act like such a douche."

            I remember being so awestruck that Tim even knew I existed that I ended up just saying, " 's fine." And ever since then, I knew if I asked Tim Rosewater out for prom, he wouldn't laugh.

            I'd like to take you, Jennifer, but taking Tim Rosewater would be nice too.

            Tim's the star of the football team and he goes to parties about every single night of the week including Sunday, which is a holy day of rest. Or I think he does, at least. I've never been to a party in my life, barring an awkward D&D affair with three other guys that never really picked up.

            I gotta go now, Jennifer, I have to take a leak.

 

Bye

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            My parents are awesome people, don't get me wrong. But my dad's been acting weird lately, especially when he noticed my desperation to get the latest edition of _Vogue_. I've got to have it. It has a photoshoot of you in it, after all. Did I mention I absolutely love you, Jennifer? The shot on the cover is great. And by great, I mean that it has your face on it. And your body. And you.

            It's disconcerting because nothing really phases my dad about me. I mean, I'm seventeen and I still have a security blanket, for Chrissake. (If we're going to get married, you gotta know these things about me, okay? I'm sorry.) Which is reason #36 why I can't let friends in my room. Rule #1 being, of course, that I don't have any friends to let in my room, which simplifies everything.

            My hobby is writing essays. I write essays about everything, Jennifer. I put in a Smiths CD (usually _Meat is Murder_ , I mean, it had a lot of great tracks) and I write fake, wannabe academic papers instead of writing the actual papers assigned for class. But seriously, who cares what I think of _My Ântonia?_ I barely skimmed the thing. Something about gypsies. I dunno. Is that racist? Anyways, I’m writing a paper arguing that electric razors are overrated. What if we only had those old-timey razors? Do you think we’d have more razor-based casualties? Would people do more Sweeney Todd stuff? Was there ever any Sweeney Todd stuff? I think I’d slit my neck on accident but apparently people have been doing it for centuries, so I just don’t know, Jennifer. I just don’t know. I need some investigative journalism, stat.

            But I _need_ the new edition of _Vogue_. Do you think my dad would calm his jeebies down if I did something equally "manly" like perform some sweet stunts I've been perfecting on my BA rollerblades in front of him?

 

I _Will_ Get Your New Photoshoot

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            So. I have some very big news. It's so big, I'm going to put it in another paragraph.

            _Ashley Tisdale and Tim Rosewater broke up!_

            I know! It's amazing. I mean, sad. It's really sad, too. That's a bummer. I like both of them a lot, but this means that I _could_ ask Tim to prom if I really wanted to. I should probably wait it out a few weeks or days or hours, though, just to, you know, let him settle his grief.

            Oh, Tim! _"I don't have much in my life, but take it; it's yours!"_ I could name fifty Smiths lyrics off the top of my head that involve Tim. I mean, _"You're a flatulent pain in the ass"_ doesn't exactly match up, but I find that even _"Writing frightening verse to a buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg"_ has its place.

            I mean, Tim! Tim, Tim, Tim! _"A boy in the bush is worth two in the hand; I think I can help you get through your exam"_ has never seemed so pressing before this. And I could, Tim! I could help him study for an exam. I mean, the rest of the song's a little skeevy, since the only people's mammary glands I'm particularly concerned with are my own and yours, Jennifer.

            So come on, Tim! _"Ask me! I won't say 'no'!"_

But If You Went With Me, That'd Be Totally Cool

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            My nights consist of listening to forgotten Nena songs and writing horrible poetry, Jennifer. (You think _Faust II_ was bad? Ha. I have Goethe beat for, like, ever.) My life isn't an 80's movie, but man oh man do I wish it was, sometimes. Something along the lines of _Footloose_.

            Though _Pretty in Pink_ would suffice. I'm not terribly picky, you know. _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ might be a little too much to hope for, but a guy can dream, can't he?

            I listen to Smiths songs and laugh, in between. My lab partner in Chemistry tells me I'm a basket case, but let me tell you, Jennifer, I'm a brain, an athlete, a basket case, a princess, and a criminal all in one.

            I told her this and she rolled her eyes, like she was trying to place the reference. I think she got it eventually!

            Anyways, I asked Tim Rosewater out to prom. It _has_ been a week, after all, and prom's only four and a half months away. I also told him about the rollerblades. He got this weird look on his face, but I don't think it was a bad one. What really matters is that he _didn't_ say no. Which, in my books, is just as good as a, well, I was going to say "maybe," but they taught us that the absence of no doesn't imply consent, so…

            I don't really know what he thought.

            But not all is lost! Because he _hasn't_ said no. I'm sure he's deliberating. Hell, I bet every girl in school's asked him out. That's a lot of competition, I know. But none of them are me! No one could show Tim Rosewater a better time than me and that is a bone fide _fact._ We could go rollerblading. I'd buy him rollerblades if he said yes. And we'd go in my dad's pick up truck. It'd be _great._

            I know it, I just do. I hope Tim sees this from my perspective. It’d be kickass. I wonder if prom has a dress-code. I heard it did, or something. All I own are jeans and flannel, though, so I guess they’ll just have to suspend it this year. I’m sure they won’t mind. I should have told Tim about my new PF Flyers. They’re not the best running shoes, but damn, do they make my feet look cooler. Who wouldn’t want to go with a guy in PF Flyers? I’ve got this in the bag.

 

Unless You Show Up Of Course

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            So, I haven’t heard back from Tim. _Yet._ Yet! I mean, it _is_ a big decision. I really should have told him about the PF Flyers. I can get a little absent-minded, sometimes. Really should have done that. I went to his football practice after XC practice, yesterday. I just sat in the bleachers and did some AP Stat. I noticed a few guys looking at me, but not Tim. I didn’t really pay attention, I’ll be honest. I’ve got State Qualifiers in two weeks. I’m getting kinda nervous, not gonna lie, but Coach says I’ll make it. I know it’s a lofty goal, but I want to be the best Cross Country runner in all of Idaho.   

            I just really hope Tim gives me a straight answer, either way. Anything but _“to you, I was faceless, I was fawning, I was boring.”_ Moz knew what he saying when he said it. I really should have mentioned the PF Flyers. God damn it.

 

Please Consider Flying To My Prom, Jennifer

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

           

            Someone once told me that you weren’t that pretty. I think she was nuts. I’d love to marry you. Then sleep with you. After the whole marriage bit, though. That’s kinda a deal-breaker. But anyways, yeah, someone said you’re ugly. And Julia from cross-country said I’m a faggot, today. She said I was a huge faggot and Tim Rosewater would never date me. She’s the one who called you ugly. Crazy, right? She called _you_ ugly.

            What crawled up her butt and died? Jeez.

            I heard from one of Tim’s football buddies that Tim isn’t going to prom, this year. Or something. Tim said prom’s overrated. I can’t say I disagree. It’s a bone fide _fact._ Prom definitely is overrated.

            I think I love Tim Rosewater, Jennifer. I really do. I hope God’s not mad. God’d be a real jerk if that were the case. I mean, God made me to love Tim Rosewater. What a lame Catch-22, you know? I mean, I’m perfect for Tim. Just look at me. I’m super cool. I’m the coolest kid in the school. Seriously. I got PF Flyers and I listen to The Smiths. Is there anything cooler than that? I am the essence of a highly sought bachelor. I’m attractive, I mean relatively speaking. I don’t stand out much, but. You know. I have nice calves. At least, I think so. They’re pretty nice. Great calves.

            My mom told me that I’m an optimist to a fault, Jennifer. Maybe I am. Maybe I gotta be, though. I don’t know. Tim hasn’t said no, not yet. I don’t think he will. He’s taking too long to say no, which increases the chances of yes, I just know it. I’m in AP Stat, Jennifer. I know things. And I know that I would show Tim Rosewater the best prom night in the history of prom nights. I’m a good boy, I really am, and I’d like to be a good boy for Tim Rosewater, too. I’d be his best boy, I promise you. I’d be anyone’s best boy. I’m a good person, Jennifer, I’m a great person, I’m just trying to do my best, you know? I’m just trying to love my country and abide by my parents and ask Tim Rosewater out to prom. What could be wrong with this picture?

 

God Bless America, And All That Jazz,

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            I’m two-thirds gay, Jennifer, but I really am straight at heart. I love Tim like I’d love anyone else. He still hasn’t said no. I wonder if I should ask Kim out to prom, instead. Kim’s part of that weird nerd club in school and I think she’s pretty decent looking, I mean, compared to you it’s no contest, but you know, I gotta take what I can get. She’s nice, too. Which is most important. She’s very nice. I should have asked Kim out to prom, instead.

            Oh wait, she has a boyfriend. Right. Okay.

            Ashley Tisdale stares at me when I walk into English, now. She stares at me and she has these wide eyes on her skinny face, bulging out of waxy skin, these two white searchlights on my shoulders when I shrug off my backpack to sit down. There’s this blankness to her look that is inherently vicious. I think she looks like a bird. She looks like a drowned owl. It’s really funny looking. Not funny in the laughing way, but kind of sort of. A little of both. It’s weird, is what I’m saying. Her face really is so thin. It’s gaunt. I hope she eats enough. Maybe I should talk to the counselor about her. Now I’m worried. Are you okay, Ashley Tisdale?

            Today she leaned toward Julia and started whispering, but they weren’t actually whispering. It was that weird shit. The, you know, the loud whisper thing? Girls do it when they want to be mean. I think, anyways. I tried not to listen, because they were whispering to each other, even if it was loud whispering, because whispering is a private conversation, but when I turned away, they started talking.

            “Do you have any idea how Timmy feels about something like that?” Julia said.

            “I don’t know,” Ashley said, her voice nasally and…Ashley. “He can’t seriously be considering it. He’s too nice for his own good.”

            “You kidding? I’d be freaked out too,” Julia said.

            “I’d think it was a joke,” Ashley said, getting louder. I was going to plug my ears to make up for it, to be polite, but I could stop fiddling with my pencil. I just couldn’t. “Some skinny faggot coming up to me, wanting to fuck me up the ass? Gross. Fucking shit-lickers.”

            “Ash- _ley_ ,” said Julia, “do you think you two will get back together?”

            “Not if he’s fucking queers,” Ashley said.

            Jeez, these two didn’t know a single PC term for anything, did they? That’s all I thought.

            ~~I was si~~

            The teacher came in, though, so they stopped talking. I was pretty relieved. I hate listening in on private conversations. I really do. It’s none of my business.

            I’m not stupid, Jennifer. I’m not.

            We’ll just leave it at that.

 

Bye

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            People at church won’t shake my hand. My parents are really confused. I wish I were. Part me still is. I want to be a cross-country champion, Jennifer, I want to go to Oregon State, I want to _do things_ with my life. There is so much more to me. The priest stares at me when I receive communion. I have nothing to confess. I don’t know why he has to do that. I have nothing to confess.

            I did splurge when I bought those PF Flyers, but that’s more of a venial sin, don’t you think? I think so. I’d hate to think buying PF Flyers as a mortal sin. Heck, I’d consider it a virtue, if I were God. That’s totally agape.

            I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I don’t masturbate or think evil thoughts when I can help it, I mean what more can I do, Jennifer? I’m not going to fuck Tim Rosewater. I just want to step out with him to prom. That’s it. That’s all I want. Why do people got to make this all so vulgar? Why do they think like that? How are they not ashamed? How do they think that’s normal? How do they think I’m the disgusting one? I wasn’t thinking any of that. Not once.

            People are just so doggone weird, Jennifer. It’s playing out just like that _Hand in Glove_ song. This is crazy. I’m a good person. I’m smart, I’m funny, I’m nice, and people like me. I made it into the State Championship. I shouldn’t let them bother me, but they’re spreading lies about me, you understand? It’s so weird. They’re so weird. I’m going to go to bed. If I woke up married to you, that’d be really cool. Maybe I should stop making up stupid illusions, though.

 

I Dunno

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            They kicked me off the cross-country team. They won’t tell me why.

 

Whatever

Man

 

-

 

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,

 

            Tim was standing at my locker, after I came in from practice. Not practice. Just running. I ran and ran and ran for hours. I was sweaty and heaving. But Tim Rosewater was there, standing by my locker, when I came in from running. We just kinda looked at each other for a moment.

            “I’d wear PF Flyers and drive you around the potato fields in my dad’s truck, it’d be awesome,” I blurted.

            Tim nodded to that. Had that been a good nod? Was it a good nod? I had wondered. Well? What?

            “Manny,” he said—I liked how he said my name, all “Manny”-like—as he put his hand in his pocket, “I’ve been thinkin’ stuff over, okay?”

            “Okay,” I said.

            “Why’d you ask me out to prom?”

            “Because I knew you wouldn’t laugh,” I said.

            Tim made a face at that. It wasn’t an ugly face. It was just. A face. And he was very quiet.

            “You never laughed at me,” I said. “Everybody else thinks I’m joking all the time. But you. You never laughed.” Or…something like that. I said something to that effect. My mind was kinda spinning, honestly.

            “I’d never laugh at you, Manny,” Tim said. I really liked how he said my name. He said it very firm.

            “Thank you,” I said.

            “That’s not something you should have to thank me for,” Tim said and he looked very distressed.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “That’s not something you should have to apologize for,” he said, looking even more distressed.

            “Thank you,” I said.

            “God, why are people such assholes to you?” he said. He looked like he was in pain. He was scrunching his face up. Like he was gonna cry. His voice was wobbly.

            “I don’t know,” I said.

            “You ain’t done nothing to nobody, here.”

            “Nope,” I agreed.

            “Look, Manny,” Tim said, “I feel bad, I really do, but I don’t wanna take you to prom on some pity date. And I don’t think the school’d allow it anyway.”

            “You pity me?”

            “No,” he said. “Or I— It’s complicated. I feel _bad,_ Manny. And I wanna help. I don’t wanna go to prom and I don’t wanna give charity. I wanna be your friend, but I don’t know you too well.”

            “I’d like to be your friend, too, Tim Rosewater,” I said.

            “Fuck it,” he said. “What’s stopping us?”

            “I dunno.”

            “You wanna go to the diner?” he said. Tim Rosewater said that. Tim Rosewater asked me out to the diner.

            “I only got five bucks on me,” I said.

            “Me too,” he said.

            “We could get a pizza at the corner market,” I said.

            “Let’s do that, then.”

            And we did.

 

Pretty Rad

Man


End file.
